


Noises, Noises Everywhere

by aravenwood



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sensory Overload, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22548988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aravenwood/pseuds/aravenwood
Summary: Jaskier loves to be loud, but sometimes noise is the worst thing in the world.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 256





	Noises, Noises Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo!
> 
> I've been hovering around this fandom for the past month or so, taking in every hurt/comfort and Jaskier whump fic that I could find. And I knew sooner or later that I'd start posting fics for it too because goddamn I love it. This one was written mostly on a bus journey home and is based to an extent off my own experiences with sensory overload.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Jaskier has always been...fragile, that's what his mother would say. His father would call it other things, names he still hears in his head as he tries to sleep. Stupid. Sick. Weak. And worse. He believes his father more, he thinks. The man had never held back the truth when it came to his youngest son.

And anyway, Jaskier knows that he's...weird. He loves to make noise - loves to talk, loves to sing, loves to play his lute until his fingers are raw and his strings worn out. He's created an entire livelihood with this loud, outrageous personality and he loves it, wouldn't have it any other way. But sometimes the noise is just too much.

When he was younger, he could never go out into the markets because of how busy and full of life they were. He couldn't deal all of the voices, all of the people hustling back and forth in a village too small for so many people. It was just too much, too loud and frightening and ended with him curled up by the side of the road with his hands pressed over his ears as he wailed and cried for his mother.

His father had tried to beat it out of him, just like he'd tried to beat out everything else that made Jaskier who he was. It hadn't worked of course - life didn't work like that, even as a child Jaskier had known that - but it did teach him to hold it all in.

Too much noise is still frightening for him, but he no longer screams when he's feeling overwhelmed. At least, not out loud. And it almost feels a little easier now that he's grown up.

Only a little, though. Taverns can still be a lot to deal with but somehow it's easier when he's the one making the noise. He can almost breathe again when he's belting out his lyrics at the top of his lungs, strumming his lute so hard his fingertips are cracked and swollen.

It's just everything else that hurts.

\--

For a long time, travelling with Geralt brings peace in ways that Jaskier has never experienced. The witcher is silent in every way Jaskier can think of; quiet breaths, quiet footsteps, quiet hums in place of words. Jaskier pretends that it annoys him because that's what this him would do.

His ears haven't screamed in a long time.

But then one day they're walking through the woods, no real duty or destination in mind, and Jaskier's bones start to itch. He can hear it all, all the noises he's been able to ignore before; leaves cracking under his feet, Roach's hooves clip clopping in a slow but steady rhythm, Geralt's armour creaking with every movement.

The vibrations of his lute strings long after the last note.

His hair brushing the top of his collar.

His own heartbeat like war drums inside his head.

All of it in unison, every noise competing for his attention and getting louder and louder and louder until he can hardly breathe.

Without meaning to, he lets out a low whimper that's more like a scream in his own mind. His hands shoot up to cover his ears and he can feel his knees buckling, can feel the dirt under his cheek as he slumps sideways and curls up into the smallest ball he can manage. He squeezes his eyes shut to block out the rest of the world, tries to rock but can't take the rustle of his clothes against the leaves lining the forest floor.

A hand grabs his shoulder and he thinks he yelps as he throws the hand off and holds himself even tighter. He’s tense as he waits for the hand to return, for Geralt to drag him to his feet and shout at him for being childish the way his father would.

But it doesn’t come. Instead he feels the heavy weight of one of Geralt’s furs draped over his shivering body, so soft that he immediately lifts his head and buries his face in it. His hands loosen on his ears without meaning to, one of them sliding down to clutch at the blanket, and almost immediately there’s a hand on his face. Something hard is pressed into his exposed ear and he squirms instinctively only to realise that all of the sounds which had hurt so badly are…not gone exactly, but muffled. He tentatively lowers his other hand and the same is pressed into the newly exposed ear. As it’s pushed into place he hears…silence. Complete and utter silence.

He lets out a long, shuddering sigh which he feels but can only barely hear. Pulls the blanket closer and lets his body relax. There are tears on his cheeks, he realises now but doesn’t bother wiping them away – and he doesn’t have to because a calloused thumb swipes them away with one quick motion. A moment later there’s a hand on his head, fingers combing through his hair and ghosting his scalp. His lips curl upwards in a soft grin and he reaches out blindly until he finds what feels like an ankle. He latches onto it with one hand, half expecting Geralt to pull away. But he doesn’t. He just keeps stroking.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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